Page 46 of Duke of Diamonds
Fiona averted her gaze, her gloved hands tightening slightly around the handle of her reticule.Such tenderness. Such ease. How enviable it all seemed.
The Duke collected his hat and gloves from a waiting footman, and after a few more affectionate murmurs, he stepped out into the waiting carriage. A brief business trip to the country, she had overheard; nothing more. And yet the fondness that lingered in Anna’s gaze as she watched her husband depart was a wound Fiona had not expected to feel.
No such kindness was ever fated for me.
She pressed her smile into something resembling cheerfulness as Anna turned back toward her, motioning for Fiona to follow her into the sitting room.
They settled onto a pair of chairs upholstered in soft blue damask. Anna rang for tea and tucked her legs primly to one side as she regarded Fiona with quiet affection.
“How are you faring, Fiona?” Anna asked, her voice pitched low in the gentle hush of the room.
Fiona managed a small laugh, one that did not quite reach her eyes.
“As well as I can,” she said.
Anna arched a brow, skepticism clear in the elegant tilt of her head.
“You are a dreadful liar,” she said.
Fiona gave a helpless shrug, her fingers worrying the trim of her sleeve.
“You are not well,” Anna added, leaning forward. “And anyone with eyes could see it.”
Fiona looked down at her lap, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in her gown.
“Whatever my circumstances, I have done what I must,” she said quietly. “I chose my path. I must live with it now. Complaining would serve no purpose.”
Anna’s mouth tightened as though she might argue, but instead she rose and crossed to Fiona’s side. Without a word, she pulled her friend into a fierce embrace.
Fiona shut her eyes, fighting the sting that pricked behind her lashes.
Do not cry. Not here. Not now.
Fortunately, the rattle of the tea service arriving spared her from betraying herself. They parted, smoothing their gowns and resettling themselves with the practiced grace of ladies who knew how to maintain appearances.
Anna, ever perceptive, offered a smile that was almost mischievous.
“Would you mind playing hostess and serving the tea?” she asked, lifting the teapot with a theatrical flourish before setting it back down with a laugh.
Fiona let out a genuine chuckle, grateful for the reprieve.
“With pleasure,” she said, reaching for the cups with steadying hands.
As Fiona poured the tea with careful hands, Anna settled back against the cushions and said, “My husband is expecting a new shipment from China next week.” She reached for a sugar cube and dropped it into her cup with a flick. “Among the shipment is my order of chrysanthemum tea,” she added with a little smile.
Fiona’s head lifted at once, her earlier melancholy lifting like mist before the sun. “Truly?” she asked, the corners of her mouth tilting into a genuine smile.
Anna laughed. “You are like a child in a sweet shop when it comes to tea, Fiona,” she said, nudging her lightly with her elbow.
Fiona laughed with her, setting down the teapot with a faint clink.
Chrysanthemum tea… I have read so much about its calming properties. At last, I shall have the chance to try it.
For a brief moment, the simple pleasure of the prospect pushed away the gloom that had settled over her heart.
They sipped in companionable silence until Anna, with a glint in her eye, leaned in slightly.
“Have you heard?” she asked.
